


Suspenders, Belts and Wanting Eyes

by KindListener



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Asphyxiation, Bathisphere Sex, Belts, Claustrophobia, Elevator Sex, Elevators, Face-Fucking, Floor Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Trapped In Elevator, Would You Kindly (BioShock)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22808029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindListener/pseuds/KindListener
Summary: Atlas wants some alone time with Jack.
Relationships: Atlas/Jack (BioShock)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 89





	Suspenders, Belts and Wanting Eyes

“You’re a precious, little thing, aren’t ya?” Asks the man above and a soft breath leaves the blonde Adonis. Long, callused fingers pass through his short, blonde hair. “I can make you do just about anything.” Like a lap dog, he sits at Atlas’s feet. “What wouldn’t I love about a man that’ll do anything I want?” He grasps the pale man’s chin and tilts his head up so he can claim those sweet, pink lips easier.

In the stories, Atlas was a leader of the Titans in their war against Zeus and, after their defeat, he was condemned to carry the heavens upon his broad and steadied shoulders. The voltaic Plasmids that Jack had injected into his arm are burning in his veins, now. Tiny, yet visible, puncture marks can be seen up and down his arm, following the meandering patterns of his veins. Sweat drips down his pallid face and he shivers and gasps whenever a Atlas touches him. Despite not being the Titan from the tall tales, Atlas’s touch still causes a heavenly sensation.

The slender, raven-haired man has found some way to stop the Bathisphere from moving, mid-journey. He even feigned ignorance as he called in a friend to fix the problem from elsewhere. The two have been trapped, in the oceanic elevator, for no longer than an hour and Jack is beginning to grow severely claustrophobic.  
“Calm down, boy-o, we’re gettin’ outta here.” Atlas coos, softly, as he runs his thumb over the swell of Jack’s cheek. The words do nothing to stop his unrelenting hyperventilating so the dark-haired man straightens and wets his lips, a motion that Jack’s wide eyes focus on. “Mmm... Those eyes on you... Aren’t they just...perfect.” He whispers as he looks at the blonde. “Come now, darlin’, lets distract us a little.” He grins and sinks into the red velvet-covered sofa, that curls around the inside of the Bathisphere. Running his thumbs under his suspenders, Atlas growls, lowly, snapping them off the waistline of his trousers and brandishing them as a kind of restraining cord. “You’re a little jittery, boy-o. Let’s change that.” He chuckles, cruelly, and Jack can feel a heat rise to his cheekbones.

Deft fingers drag and bind the blonde to the lever of the Bathisphere. Atlas straddles the blonde’s broad chest, using the angle to bind him easier. As the suspenders shackle his wrists to the lever, Jack begins to struggle, slightly, growing uncomfortable in his state of dress. “Would you kindly settle down, darlin’?” Instantly, his straining stops and he lies still, his beige sweater, spattered with dried blood, is hitched over his belly, exposing a pleasing amount of anaemic flesh. When the raven-haired man stands, with his feet either side of Jack’s slender hips, he traps his bottom lip between his teeth. “Damn, darlin’... Every piece of you makes me...” A sharp exhale leaves him as he runs a rough palm from his exposed collarbones, over his abdomen and to the front of his pants, his fingers tracing the outline of his sizeable piece before giving it a brief squeeze. “You’re such a pretty, little thing, aren’t you...? Yes, you are.” Atlas sighs, breathily, as he untucks and begins to unbutton his shirt. Again, he settles himself straddling Jack, lower this time. Atlas strips himself of his shirt and tosses it to the couch. His blood-stained vest is taut across his skin, a slight amount of dark hair poking from his chest and under his arms. Swiftly, he pulls the vest over his head and Jack’s mouth begins to water at the sight of this, his puppet master, baring himself to the cool air. Before he can get to his pants, Atlas gets distracted, fiddling with Jack’s sweater, doubling over himself to take a deep breath, inhaling his irresistible scent of blood, gun metal and harsh chemicals. A languid, breathy, self-indulgent groan is pulled from his throat as he ruts his hips against the blonde’s well-built thigh.

Jack’s own breath stutters and stumbles as he watches Atlas come undone before his eyes. His stomach sinks and something in him twitches, his voice growing louder in the enclosed space as coarse fingertips trace adventitious patterns under his sweater. Crepuscular, lust-filled eyes dart up, meeting Jack’s jaundiced ones, causing him to flinch. Atlas has never gazed up at him like this before, ravenous and feral. His sweater is pushed up to exposed the pale expanse of his chest and Atlas purrs in response.  
“Oh, boy-o...” He sighs, almost melodically, as his lips pull close to Jack’s ear. “I’m gonna enjoy breakin’ your pretty, little body in two.” He growls and the blonde can practically hear the perverse grin that pulls at his lips. He reappears in Jack’s line of sight, their lips catching in a fury of lascivious fire. Atlas’s dexterous tongue finds its way into the blonde man’s mouth as his fingers curl around his clothed erection, making him gasp. Atlas plays filthy; grasping at his balls and kneading them gently. His whole demeanour... Jack has been trying to decipher it. He seems like he wants to tease but he’s all too distracted, himself, with the proceedings.

Almost as if Atlas can hear his thoughts (maybe a Plasmid that he has not seen just yet?), the raven-haired man pulls away, unbinding Jack from the lever. After that, he retreats to the other side of the Bathisphere, taking a seat on the velvet and watching what the blonde does with his newfound freedom. Jack rubs at his marked wrists before looking up at his puppet master. He knows what is coming.  
“Would you kindly open your legs for me, boy-o?” Atlas purrs, bewitchingly, watching as Jack slides his feet up to bow his knees before letting them fall open, displaying the glory of the blonde’s clothed piece. Jack averts his eyes, shamefully. “God, yes, darlin’.” Experimentally, he presses the straining zipper of the blonde’s pants with his shoe, drawing a low-strung whine from Jack. Atlas hums in delight.

Again, he’s overcome by his own desires, unable to hold himself back from diving back, between Jack’s spread thighs, running his palms along the underside of them, stretching them back more to give him better access to his shapely backside. And then? He can’t wait any longer, fumbling with the blonde’s belt buckle, tugging off Jack’s pants eagerly and tossing them to the sofa. What’s exposed is acres upon acres of gorgeously pale, scarred flesh, only separated by the unwelcome fabric of his tight briefs. Still, Atlas curls his fingers, experimentally, around Jack’s erection and he whines disgracefully. His briefs come off, as does his sweater, and now he is, fully, stripped bare to Atlas’s wild gaze.

Jack’s erection is thick with a good amount of length and a flared, blushing crown poking out from underneath his uncut foreskin. Veins snake across the girth of it and it spits pre-ejaculate over Atlas’s knuckles when he attempts to run his fist down the length of it. He continues with his ministrations, one hand stroking up and down one thigh while peppering wet kisses and pleasingly red marks over the other. With all this attention, Jack soon begins to come undone. Low, shuddering, drawn-out moans are pulled from Jack’s lungs as he begins to buck up into Atlas’s palm.  
“Sit up for me, lad. Sit up for me.” Jack backs up against the sturdy column of the lever, watching his eager erection bob up against his belly. Slowly, Atlas reaches for his belt and unbuckles it, pulling it out of the belt loops and brandishing it, much like he did with the suspenders, not long ago. Those have since been tossed on the growing pile of clothes, on the sofa.

Straddling Jack’s thighs, Atlas reaches round with his belt, leashing his little pet to the lever, again. But, this time, by the throat. The leather presses against Jack’s neck and he gasps as, with a sharp tug, it digs into his windpipe, his breath coming in pained wheezes and short sighs. Just enough oxygen leaks in to keep him conscious but the world around him grows darker.  
“There you go, lad.” He secures it and leans back in to kiss the blonde, kissing away his air supply, feeling Jack suffocate beneath him. The power goes straight to his constrained erection, grinding against Jack’s throbbing piece, subconsciously. “Aw, feckin’ Christ... That’s a good look for you, lad. Strugglin’ for air and still hard as a Goddamn rock.”

He stands, kicking off his shoes and popping open the button on his pants, letting them fall to the ground. His briefs are pushed to their limit, the front damp with pre-ejaculate and he pushes the swell of his piece against Jack’s face, rolling his hips against him. “Mmm... You’re not very vocal, are you, darlin’. Guess you can’t help that, at the moment.” Atlas grins, working his piece out of his briefs. Jack’s eyes widen in shock when he is able to study the full size of him and Atlas, obviously, notices. “It’s a nice cock, don’t you think, boy-o?” He asks, rhetorically, as he threads his fingers into Jack’s short, blonde hair, rocking his hips against his face. “Open that pretty, little mouth, would you kindly?” And the blonde easily parts his lips, accepting Atlas’s gift between them. The inches that do not fit in his mouth slide into his throat and the raven-haired man’s breath catches in his lungs. He pushes all the way in, feeling Jack’s throat swell and throb around his piece. He can feel the blonde’s pulse, strong and quick, fleeting and panicky. “Feck... You look damn good with your lips all wrapped up around my cock, y’know?” He groans as he begins to rock in and out of the blonde’s mouth. Something about the slick sound of saliva on skin makes Atlas’s fingers tighten in Jack’s hair. “Oh, good boy, good boy...” Soon, his piece is disappearing down Jack’s throat at an alarming rate, causing the blonde’s vision to grow dark and bleary. A steady string of breathless curses seeps from Atlas’s blossoming lips as his brain all but turns off. When Atlas bottoms out to release into his little puppet, he feels the blonde’s pulse, now slow and weak, distant and dying. “Don’t worry, boy-o... It won’t take long...” He breathes as he empties himself into Jack.

When he is content with his handiwork, Atlas hastily pulls out and unleashes Jack from the lever, watching him gulp down air and cough roughly. Eyes, jaundiced by Plasmid side-effects, glare up at Atlas as he languidly stretches out on the couch. Once he's regained enough strength, Jack launches for Atlas, hauling him up and tearing off his briefs.  
“Hang on, lad. Would you—” The blonde shoves Atlas over the couch and rips off a piece of his sweater before sticking it in the raven-haired man’s controlling mouth, letting him taste blood and steel on his flattened tongue. His arms are tucked behind his back before Jack slicks his own erection with saliva and pushes against Atlas’s backside, needing a few seconds to fully work himself in. A high scream is muffled by the material in Atlas’s mouth and he struggles, only impaling himself further on Jack’s more than impressive girth. The scent of blood fills the sea air and cuts through the smell of expensive cologne and old velvet.  
“You’re so warm and wet inside...” Jack murmurs against Atlas’s ear as he draws out. The pace he sets is relentless, fast and violent. All these formalities and ‘would you kindly’s have brought him to his wits’ end. A hand moves down to palm at the dark-haired man’s rekindled lust and he leaps at the sensation. Jack knows he won’t last long and he will make sure that Atlas does the same. Jack’s puppet master shudders as he tongues at his neck, feeling his fluttering pulse against his mouth. “I won’t be long...” The blonde states and Atlas huffs through the cloth. With three, quick-fire thrusts, Jack spills into Atlas’s shivering body and the dark-haired man twitches and moans as his second orgasm claims him, fluid dripping over long, pale fingers.

“Christ, lad, where’d you learn a trick like that?” Dressed and sucking on a cigarette, Atlas lounges against the red velvet of the sofa and Jack does the same, on the opposite side of the Bathisphere. The blonde shrugs. “You a right party boy? Should I be worried?” The dark-haired man’s eyes soften slightly and Jack hurriedly shakes his head, exhaling smoke through his nose. “Then...?”  
“I don’t know. Instinct, maybe?” The blonde replies, tapping ash onto the marble floor. “Can’t remember the last time I had a good...y’know.” Atlas chuckles warmly and looks over at his companion with a sad gaze that Jack only just misses.  
“I’m gonna miss you, lad.” He sighs as the Bathisphere is hauled out of the water by a few of Atlas’s men.  
“What do you mean?” Jack asks, stubbing out his cigarette on a poster and watching the paper shrivel to nothing in the flames. Atlas takes a breath before sighing heavily.

I don’t know.

Instinct, maybe?


End file.
